CHAPTER III 
MAY-TIME IN THE FOREST 
In 1903 spring came much earlier than usual. 
The ice went out of the lakes in our region of Maine 
about the middle of April, more than two weeks 
ahead of the average date, and when we went into 
Gordon’s camp, the season had completely changed 
the appearance of the country. The logs that in 
February were being hauled on to the ice were now 
floating in a big boom at the foot of the lake. The 
gate had been hoisted in the dam, and the stream 
down below, swollen to a freshet pitch, was full of 
big sticks, tossing and swerving as they shot like 
arrows down through the white-water rapids. A 
crew of river-drivers, with long steel-shod pick- 
poles, lined the banks to guide and push off the 
logs that often threatened to run aground on the 
sharp bends in the river. A few weeks before, when 
winter had held the northland in its grip, I had 
listened to the shrilling of sled-runners on hard 
snow and to the snapping of trees in the frost ; now 
the songs of the earliest birds and the calling of 
the hylas and wood-frogs mingled with the sound of 
running water, and our eyes were greeted with burst- 
ing buds and with green shoots breaking the forest 
floor, in haste to answer the call of the May sunshine. 
